Where were you in 1991?

January 15th, 1990

This is not the kind of trip you return home from, feeling tired. Lagos is a destination where you’re forced to relax because there’s sod all else to do. Fortunately for me, Laney is here, otherwise I’d be pulling out my hair (in clumps!)

Spent most of the day lounging by the pool. The Golden Oldies (aka “the rest of the crew”) were nowhere to be seen.

“What are you reading?” Laney asked.

“An absolutely delightful book by,” I held it up. “How would you pronounce his name?”

“Kaz oo o ish i guro,” she said. “Japanese, obviously.”

“Well done, clever clogs!”

“Don’t clever clogs me, you couldn’t even pronounce it and how do you know it’s a he?”

“His face is on the inside cover. See?” I said, showing her. “He won the Man Booker Prize.”

“Hmmm”, she uttered, clearly uninterested. She reclined on the lounger, put on her sunglasses and pulled the brim of her hat down to cover her face.

I turned to page one o six and picked up where I left off.

“It’s much hotter than I thought it’d be.”

“I know, we’ll get a tan if we stay out all day.”

“We can’t stay out all day,” Laney said. “We’ll get burned to a cinder.”

“You know what I mean.”

“Not really,” she said.

I shook my head and started reading page one o six again. A minute later, Laney interrupted the silence. “Do you have suntan lotion in your bag?”

“Yeah, do you want some?”

“Not yet.”

I turned to page one o eight.

“What number is it?” She asked.

“The page number?”

“No,” she laughed. “What number is your suntan lotion?”

“Oh, I think it’s thirty.”

“I usually use at least forty.”

“Hence your flawless skin,” I said, scanning the page to find the last passage I read.